Page 103 of One Little Mistake

I’m waiting.

The sliding doors open, necks stretch forward, everyone scanning the crowd for their loved ones. The first passenger steps out—but it’s not Max.

Disappointment.

I wait again for the doors to open. I move closer, peering into the corridor. Dozens of people stream out, dragging their luggage behind them, but I don’t see him.

Smiles, hugs, laughter, even tears. But none of them are mine. Max still hasn’t appeared. The crowd thins. My anxiety spikes. I replay the scene in my head, imagining our reunion. A whisper of doubt creeps in—what if he changed his mind about us? I shove the thought away. I adjust the little sock on my baby’s foot.

Then, just when I think it’s over, I spot familiar faces to my right—Max’s mother… and his ex-wife. What the hell is she doing here? Could it be…?

I don’t even get to finish the thought, because at that moment the door opens again—and I see HIM.

He’s walking slowly. Limping. Gripping a cane in one hand, bearing weight on it. His leg is bandaged above the knee. His beard’s grown out. There’s a bruise beneath one eye. He looks thin. Worn out. But he’s mine.

Our eyes meet and no words are needed. None. His eyes hold so much—everything. A hurricane of emotions. A whole universe. Mine.

He stops. Just stands there, a quiet, sad smile on his face. And I? I run. I dart past his mother and Cynthia before they can reach him—because he’s mine. Always has been. I’ve waited so long. I don’t even notice the tears until they’re streaming down my cheeks. I throw my arms around him, press into his chest, breathe him in, absorb his warmth.

“Max,” I whisper. “Max,” kissing his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips.

“Shhh, baby, I’m here,” he murmurs, stroking my back with his free hand.

“You’re hurt. Are you in pain?” I ask, eyes scanning him frantically.

“I’m okay, sunshine. I am now,” he says gently.

“Why didn’t you call me? I was losing my mind.”

“You won’t believe it, but I dropped my phone overboard,” he chuckles, not taking his eyes off me. “I’m serious.”

“Idiot,” I sniff, wiping away my tears. “I wouldn’t have survived if something happened to you.”

“Hey, little man,” Max says, reaching out and gently squeezing Tim’s tiny hand. “So, I’ve had three long weeks to think things through. And I’ve decided—it’s about time we put my name on your birth certificate. The ‘father’ slot is still open, right?” He winks at me.

“There were a few applicants,” I grin through the tears, “but I saved it just for you.”

This… this is more than I ever dreamed of.

“Only thing is, I’m kind of… out of order right now,” he says, nodding toward his leg.

“We’ll get you fixed up in no time. I even know a few miracle remedies,” I grin, eyes shining through tears.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his mother appears before he can. Her face is tear-streaked, she’s clutching a handkerchief, and she throws her arms around him, whispering something I can’t make out. I glance away—and that’s when I spot Cynthia. She’s standing a few steps away, red lips pursed, glaring at me with disdain. I meet her look head-on, smile sweetly, and give her a little wave as if to say, ‘You’re not needed here, darling’.

She scoffs, gives Max a disgusted once-over, then spins on her heel and storms off.

“Mom, did I ever mention I’m planning to get married?” Max says suddenly, his voice raised just enough for everyone to hear. I whip my head toward him, stunned. His mother pulls back, eyes wide, shifting between him, me, and the baby in my arms.

“And here you were telling your poor mother there was nothing going on between you two!” she scolds gently, pressing a hand to her heart. “Let’s get home. Your father and Elena are waiting—they were dying to come to the airport, but I told them to prepare the house for your arrival. Oh! And where’s Cynthia? She was just with me. She’s been so worried about you.”

“Let’s leave Cynthia out of it, yeah?” Max snaps, the irritation in his voice sharp. “Didn’t want to spoil the moment, but maybe I should’ve come clean sooner. The reason for our divorce? She cheated on me.”

“What?” His mother gasps, completely blindsided, eyes round as saucers.

“No details, Mom,” he says firmly, shifting his gaze to me and Tim, “but I really hope I never see her anywhere near my family again.”

I inhale. Deeply. Like I haven’t in weeks. I smile. And when we slide into the taxi, I lean in close and whisper, “I love you, my quiet man.”

---